


Coffee Date

by myrobotheart



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrobotheart/pseuds/myrobotheart
Summary: Red invites Lizzie to breakfast.





	1. Invitation

Sometimes she wondered what life had been like before him. She could barely remember. She hardly wanted to. No single person had ever looked at her like that; had ever valued her so highly that she came before all else. It made her feel comforted; it made her feel revered. She longed to be able to tell him, show him, that she felt the same. But she was scared that even if she did, he would never believe her. 

-

Sometimes they ordered Indian take-out and shared it in her apartment, or his. Their hands would meet briefly, fingertips brushing, over the bowl of rice. She would hesitate, wondering how he would react to her taking his hand in hers. But before she could do anything, the moment had passed. This is delicious would transition to It's getting late and Have a good night, and she wasn't able to think of anything to say that would make him stay.

-

Sometimes she would receive a phone call late at night, or early in the morning. It was as though he so enjoyed hearing her voice that he couldn't resist. 

“Lizzie.”

“Red.”

“...I just remembered this perfect little cafe in New York, you simply must go next time you're there.”

“Next time I'm in New York?”

“Yes, Lizzie – they serve the absolute greatest espresso you've ever tasted.”

“Is that why you called? To recommend an espresso for me to try the next time I'm in New York? Red, you realize I live in Washington?” She was smiling; understood that this was not the reason he had called; wanted him to say so.

“Yes, I just thought of it now and wanted to tell you before I forgot. It's called The Roastery.”

She nodded, realized he couldn't see her, and said, “Of course. I'll write it down.” She didn't want to ask is there anything else, she wanted him to have to admit it. She would wait however long it took. Taking up a pen and notepad, she wrote The Roastery – greatest espresso – NY, and chewed the end of the pen a bit.

“How are you, Lizzie?”

“How am I? You mean since you saw me yesterday?” 

“Yes. Yes, that's what I mean. Are you well?”

“I'm well, thank you Red.” She wasn't going to make this easy on him, was enjoying waiting for him to explain himself.

“Good.” Another long pause. She wondered where he was calling from. “I'm just sitting here reading the newspaper, but I realized it was yesterday's. Was considering grabbing breakfast and coffee someplace. Would you care to join me?”

She would care to. It would be delightful – much better than sitting alone with her instant coffee and toast. “Red, I'd love to. Text me the address.”

She thought she could hear him smiling at this, when he replied, “Wonderful. See you soon, Lizzie.”

-

He hadn't been able to stop himself from calling her. It was getting out of hand, but she didn't seem to mind – actually seemed pleased to hear from him, he could almost convince himself. They had just spent the afternoon together yesterday, but suddenly he found himself dialing her number and inviting her out to breakfast. 

If she had declined, he would have told himself he was being too needy, should stop calling so often. But she hadn't – I'd love to, she'd said. Text me the address. It sounded like she was smiling, was already walking out the door. He supposed it was possible she just didn't have anything to eat in her apartment. It was possible she just felt like getting out of the apartment for some fresh air. 

He quickly texted her the address, and grabbed his jacket. On the other hand-- well. It didn't do him any good to think about that.

-


	2. Breakfast

Lizzie hesitated before walking into the cafe. She'd thrown on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading out, and her hair was still in messy waves from bed. She hoped Reddington hadn't shown up in a three-piece suit or something. Actually, she would have enjoyed seeing that, but she just didn't want to seem out of place in her jeans. Shaking her head at the thought that she was worrying about her outfit, she grabbed the door handle and walked in. She was hoping she'd give off at least a moderate air of confidence.

As soon as she stepped in, her eyes went straight to his table. Thank goodness. He was wearing jeans. He was wearing jeans. Her heart did something funny inside her chest. She walked over to where he was sitting, and he put down his newspaper as she approached. 

“Lizzie, welcome. I've ordered coffee and these delicious pastries, you must try them.” He tilted his head toward a plate of what appeared to be two of each of everything on offer. He smiled as she took a seat. 

“Hi,” she said. “This looks amazing!” She scooted her chair in a bit closer to the table (and him). “Thank you for the invitation, Red. So much better than the toast I was planning on.”

He smiled. “My pleasure.” And mine, Lizzie thought, but she couldn't quite manage to say it. She wondered if it would be weird to mention the jeans. She'd often thought he looked as good in casual wear as he did in his suits, and she liked to think that he felt enough at ease in her company to leave some of the pretense at home. 

“I'm glad I'm not under-dressed,” was what she settled on. 

“You look wonderful, Lizzie.” So do you.

She blushed at that. Picked up her coffee and took a quick sip to distract herself. “So, what's the best, here?” she regarded the plate of pastries with eagerness. 

“That blueberry danish looks incredible,” he said, “Shall we?” And they both picked one off the plate to try. 

“Cheers,” she said, holding hers up with a grin, and he chuckled. She loved hearing him laugh, and knowing that she could make that happen. She must have been smiling at him without noticing, because he regarded her for a moment with an unreadable expression, his eyes locking on hers as if he was trying to read her as well. Their gaze broke when a waitress stopped by to check on their coffees. 

“Delightful, thank you,” Red told her, and Lizzie nodded in agreement. 

“As good as the Roastery?” she teased.

“In present company, the coffee comes second in importance,” he replied. 

-

Red wondered if she knew how happy he was to be sitting here eating breakfast with her. Had he been too profuse with the compliments? You look wonderful, Lizzie? Was that too much? She always looked wonderful to him, but he loved seeing her show up this morning in jeans and a t-shirt as he hoped it meant that she had thrown on the first things she'd seen and headed out right away. That she was as eager to see him as he was, her. Perhaps it just meant she didn't think twice about what she wore to meet him. 

He himself had decided on jeans and a casual shirt, as he remembered how pleased she'd been in the past to see him “relax a bit,” as she had put it.

He thought that she'd smiled at him for a long time just now, longer than she needed. What had she been thinking about? 

“Well, Lizzie? What's your verdict?”

“Blueberry danish for the absolute win,” she asserted, still smiling. “But I'm happy to try the rest just to make sure. Also, great coffee actually. Or maybe it's the company.”

Red suddenly had a hard time remembering how to eat. He lifted a pastry to his mouth, then placed it back down on the plate without taking a bite. He met her eyes, but couldn't find anything to say whether her statement was meant to be taken lightly, or if it had more weight to it. He settled on a conceding head-tilt to acknowledge the possible compliment. 

-

Lizzie saw him try to figure out the compliment. She'd tried to be nonchalant, because she knew a direct compliment might cause him to think she was being insincere. It was a habit of his, not being able to believe that he was worthy of compliments. It made her heart hurt.

She wasn't sure what she was doing exactly, but she reached across the table and placed her hand atop his, gently, almost without any weight at all. She so badly wanted him to understand that she was happy, here, eating breakfast with him.

He regarded her hand with surprise. Before he could react, she removed it with a small smile. Just enough to reassure him she wanted to be here, she was enjoying herself.

Red cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, which made her want to reach over and hug him. Damn the man, why was everything he did so endearing? Rather than act on that impulse and risk ruining the meal, she pretended to be preoccupied selecting a second pastry to try.

“...I think the chocolate croissant next, mmm.”

He managed to take a sip of his coffee. 

-

After they'd eaten every pastry on offer (the blueberry had held onto its winning status) and drank multiple cups of coffee, Red realized their breakfast was at risk of being over. He tried to come up with a reason to order more coffee, but couldn't. He was resigning himself to the end of their get-together when she spoke.

“Are you heading anywhere next? Would you like to go for a walk?” her voice was slightly breathless as though she was trying to say everything in one go, as quickly as possible. She was looking at a spot just to the left of his hands.

“I'd love to.” 

Her eyes met his, seemingly with relief. “Good! I mean, I'm glad. I – it's lovely out. For a walk.” 

Red stood, and offered a hand to her as she was getting up from the table. She blushed slightly, and took it momentarily as she stood up. “Thank you.”

He wondered what could possibly be greater than her smile.

-


	3. Making it a habit

Sometimes she would have trouble falling asleep, and would imagine a different time and place, when circumstances didn't prevent her from falling asleep next to him. When that happened, often she'd get up and write. She'd been keeping a journal, of things she had said, or wished she'd said. Of things she dreamed, and hoped. Of possible futures.

 

-

 

Sometimes he would have trouble falling asleep, and would re-imagine her bright smile, her soft eyes. He'd wonder what he ever did to deserve her _Maybe it's the company_ or _I'd love to'_ s. He'd hope that whatever it was, he'd do it again, and so would she. He'd listen to music, have a drink, not sleep very much at all.

 

-

 

One day, they sat eating breakfast in Lizzie's kitchen. He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but they seemed to be making a habit of breakfasts together, and he wasn't going to question it too hard lest it turned out to be a dream.

 

Lizzie was pouring coffee from a carafe into two mismatched mugs: one pink, one green. They both drank their coffee black. She handed Red the pink mug, eyes teasing.

 

She took a seat next to him on a kitchen chair, her leg brushing his gently. She was still wearing pajama-like clothes – a soft t-shirt and leggings. “I like having breakfast with you.”

 

He swallowed his coffee in a large gulp, nearly burning his throat on its way down. “Is it the pastries?” he tried, weakly gesturing at the opened box he'd brought with him. He hoped she wouldn't say yes.

 

“Well...” she grinned, hit his knee gently. “Of course not, silly. I mean, they're only part of it.”

 

“And the other part...?” he waited, still focusing on the pastries.

 

“With _you._ ” she repeated softly. “I like having breakfast _with you.”_

 

“And I, you, Lizzie,” he replied, with just enough meaning.

 

“Maybe we should do it more often,” she suggested, reaching over and taking a pastry from the box.

 

“How often?” he held his breath.

 

She just smiled at him. “How's your coffee? It's a blend I picked up at the market that I thought we could try. Good, right?”

 

He let out the breath. “Right.”

 

-

 

 


	4. Not entirely a waste

She was trying to convince him to buy an espresso machine. He drank enough coffee to make it worthwhile, and it wasn't as bad as the pod-based coffee system that he'd outright refused to consider. ( _This little plastic cup does not convince me, Lizzie.)_ She'd sent him photos of different models, both fancy and simple. She didn't know that the reason he kept putting it off was that he was afraid if he got one, she'd stop inviting him over for coffee.

 

“Lizzie, if there's one thing I've found in all my coffee drinking years, it's that espresso tastes best when brewed outside of one's home.”

 

“Red, if you buy this beautiful fancy one, I'll help you set it up. And come over on weekends to enjoy home-made espresso with you.”

 

He bought it that day.

 

-

 

It was Saturday morning. The espresso machine glinted tauntingly on his counter. _Had Lizzie been serious about coming over?_ he wondered. He left the kitchen, shaking his head.

 

Moments later he picked up his phone. Dialed three numbers, placed it back down again. Picked it up and regarded it a bit fiercely. He was being ridiculous. He grabbed the instruction booklet, flipped through it without actually reading it. Picked up the phone again. And was startled by a knock at the door.

 

He froze, watching the door suspiciously.

 

“Red?” Lizzie's voice was muffled. “I brought breakfast sandwiches. Can I come in?”

 

Opening the door, he noticed her arms were full of bags. She handed him one -- “Sandwiches,” she explained unnecessarily-- and walked in with the others, not noticing the smile he quickly turned his head to hide.

 

“Have you turned it on, yet?” she asked, walking into the kitchen. “I think you just need to fill it with water first...”

 

He followed her in. She had already disassembled the machine and was filling it with water. She looked up, smiling, when he entered the room. “It really isn't that complicated. You'll see.”

 

He tilted his head. “I'm open to being convinced.”

 

-

 

Lizzie had already decided she would be coming over the minute he bought the espresso machine. She liked being the one to teach him something, for a change. And it was an excuse to stop by on the weekends, as she'd said.

 

She'd wondered if she should wait for an invitation, but decided that it was best to just show up. And she'd brought food, more coffee, and some kind of special cleaning solution that the manufacturer of the machine recommended using when she'd been googling which one to buy.

 

“...So once you've filled it with water, the coffee goes here, you pat it down, and then press this button, and...” the machine started buzzing, and shortly after began to pour out coffee. “There! It _was_ easy.”

 

He was standing behind her, watching her rather than the machine itself. When she turned back to see what he thought, she found him looking at her fondly. “... Don't you think?” she finished, a bit less certainly.

 

He thought that having Lizzie there with him making coffee was more than he could have asked for. He thought that he would have been happy to see her even if she hadn't brought breakfast sandwiches. He thought that he'd like her to stay.

 

He realized she was still waiting for a response. “I think I can learn to live with it,” he conceded.

 

-

 

They sat at the table and tried the espresso for the first time.

 

Red coughed, and Lizzie's eyes widened at her first mouthful. “Tastes... a bit plasticky,” Lizzie said, “are you sure you cleaned out all the packaging before setting it up?”

 

He frowned. “I think so.”

 

They each took another sip. Red swished the liquid around a bit before managing to swallow it in a quick gulp. He placed his cup back on the table with finality. Lizzie gazed at her cup with a pained expression.

 

“I expected it to be... a bit... less...--”

 

“--Terrible?” he finished, and her face fell.

 

“Red, I'm so sorry for the terrible recommendation. I read all the reviews and everything!”

 

Her sorrowful face was adorable. He was having a hard time not kissing her. Instead, he settled for a smile. “The morning wasn't entirely a waste, Lizzie. Let's take these breakfast sandwiches to go- we can pick up coffee on the way to the park, and eat outside. It appears to be a beautiful morning.”

 

He took the bag with the sandwiches in one hand, holding the other out to Lizzie. She took it, smiling back. _Not entirely a waste at all_ , she thought.

 

-

 

 

 


	5. Soup

Sometimes Lizzie forgot what it was like not to have Red in her life. Sometimes she believed that everything that had happened before him was just a precursor, somehow, to this- the life she was meant to have. Nowadays, it was the regular thing for them to spend time together outside of work, and it felt natural, and just _right_ somehow. So unlike the beginning, when she was constantly worried that he had some ulterior motive or would suddenly turn the tables on her. She could hardly believe she'd ever doubted that she could trust him completely.

 

-

 

“Hello?”

 

“ _Lizzie.”_

 

“Red. I'm sick.” she was holding the phone in one hand, kleenex in the other, eyeing a package of cold medication that was maddeningly out of reach. She thought that getting up to grab the pills would probably take the last bit of energy she had.

 

“ _Lizzie. Stay there – I'll be right over.” {click]_

 

She blinked at the phone. He had hung up. _Stay there_ , he'd instructed, as though she'd be running around someplace or something. She smiled, closing her eyes. She hoped he'd bring soup.

 

-

 

Red grabbed a container of Dembe's homemade soup from the fridge before heading out the door. He had been planning to invite Lizzie over for dinner that evening, but was quickly forming a new plan. He'd bring her this soup (it was an old recipe he'd come to rely on for when he himself was sick) and then make sure she had anything else she needed. It was terrible being sick on one's own.

 

He knocked at her apartment door, just to let her know he'd arrived, then let himself in with a spare key. “Lizzie?”

 

He heard a small cough from her room, and then something that was a bit muffled.

 

“I brought you some of Dembe's deliciously spicy soup. Great for clearing out phlegm,” he called out, heading into her kitchen to put the soup in the fridge. He wondered why he'd said 'phlegm.' That was one of the worst possible word choices, really. He shook his head.

 

Lizzie made another muffled noise that sounded possibly like “thank you.”

 

He hesitated in the kitchen. “Is there anything else you need? May I come in?”

 

“ _Yes._ ” That had definitely been clearer.

He walked out of the kitchen and peered in the doorway, seeing Lizzie bundled under what looked like a mixture of blankets and – was that a beach towel? - in her bed. She sat up a bit when he walked in, then sneezed.

 

“Bless you.”

 

“Thanks Red. You brought soup?”

 

He nodded. She looked like it was the best news she'd had all day, which pleased him immensely. “I was hoping you would.”

 

“What else can I bring you, Lizzie? What's this towel thing- are you too cold?” he went over to her and lifted the edge of a brightly patterned towel.

 

She looked puzzled. “I guess it was in the closet when I pulled out all the blankets. I was trying to reach the cold pills earlier too, but...” she gestured over to the dresser.

 

Red brought them over to her. “I'll get you a glass of water.”

 

He returned, and when she'd taken a pill and settled back in bed, he took the blankets off and started rearranging them in a much better fashion. When he was done, she was wonderfully cocooned and warm.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Shouldn't have come.” Her eyelids were heavy.

 

He chewed the inside of his cheek, shook his head ever so slightly. “Of course I came, Lizzie. Now get some rest, and we'll have the soup when you wake up.” His hand lingered momentarily on the blanket by her head, and he tucked some strands of hair behind her ear before taking his hand away.

 

He started to leave the room, had turned off her light, when she spoke again very quietly.

 

“I'm glad you came, Red.”

 

His heart swelled up in his chest. It was enough.

 


	6. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene will likely span 2 or 3 chapters, but I was really excited to start writing it and am posting the partial update now, as chapter 6 :) More to come! 
> 
> Thank you as well for your lovely, encouraging comments. It's so much fun to write this and I'm really happy to know I'm not the only one enjoying it! xo

Red often found himself thinking about ways he could make Lizzie laugh. Smiling was easy, he'd gotten good at that. Laughing was something else, and he delighted in it when it happened. It made something that was normally hard and heavy in his heart feel suddenly soft and light. It made everything that had happened in the past worthwhile, and gave him an acute hunger for what could be in the future. Things that he thought he'd never be able to forget became shadows of what they once were. He felt redeemed, when he was able to bring her joy. And so he acted with that as his motivator. Perhaps eventually he could feel enough redemption to be worthy of her, truly worthy. It was worth all he had to try.

 

“Lizzie. I'd like to take you to dinner. Are you free?”

 

“ _Tonight?”_

 

“Yes.”

 

She smiled, thinking that even if she hadn't been free, she'd have cancelled her plans anyway. “ _Yes, I'm free.”_

 

“Good. Evening dress, Lizzie, and I'll pick you up at six.”

 

“ _Looking forward to it.”_ she said, and his breath caught in his throat.

 

-

 

Evening dress didn't mean much to Lizzie, but she imagined Red would be wearing a tux, and so decided to choose something that would complement him. She flipped past some shorter dresses to one long gown that hadn't come out of the closet in a year or two. She'd worn it to some gala where she'd been undercover. It was floor-length, and deep blue – almost black – like the night sky. Her fingers brushed the soft fabric and she imagined Red's hands on her back, gently guiding her to their table. She smiled – it would be perfect.

 

Her hair she pulled back and to the side in an elegant twist. She kept her makeup simple, mascara and a vivid, deep lipstick. Glancing in the mirror before she left, she was pleased at what she saw – a vibrant woman with possibly an extra sparkle in her eye: the result of her anticipation for the evening.

 

-

 

He arrived at 5:59 p.m. She was standing at the door but was still slightly startled when he knocked, so she opened the door with a bit of a sheepish smile at her exaggerated nerves. “Hi,” she said.

 

His eyes widened and she saw him try to regain composure, but fail. Her smile grew.

 

“Lizzie,” he finally managed. “You look...”

 

She raised an eyebrow, still smiling. It was worth waiting for the rest of the sentence, she thought.

 

“...radiant,” he finished, simply.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Shall we?” he held out an arm, which she took as easily as anything. These motions - the holding out of an arm, the accepting – they were everything to him. Confirmation that he was doing something right. “I hope you're hungry Lizzie, because the food will be spectacular.”

 

She allowed him to help her into the car and shut the door, thinking that it hardly mattered what the food was like.

 

When they arrived, Lizzie saw that it was indeed a fancy place. Most men were in tuxedos and her dress was on the verge of seeming plain. She rubbed the edge of her purse with nervous fingers, a gesture causing Red to lean in and murmur, “Relax, Lizzie. You are breathtaking.”

 

No sooner than he'd startled her with that reassurance, he was handing his hat to the coat check and announcing their arrival, like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Lizzie felt her face grow warm with the compliment, and she followed him to their table feeling better about her dress.

 

And then Red's warm hands were on her back, just as she'd imagined earlier, as he led her to the table and pulled out a chair for her. It was unnerving how a simple touch made her so aware of his presence nowadays. He smiled, taking a seat, as though her thoughts were written on her face. And perhaps they were, Lizzie thought. And perhaps that wasn't a bad thing at all.

 

“What are you smiling at, Lizzie?” he asked softly, eyes examining hers.

 

She hesitated, deciding whether to be completely honest. _I'm smiling because I couldn't be happier at the moment_ seemed a bit extreme for the start of the evening, but it was the truth. He took a considering sip from his water glass, still watching her closely and awaiting her response.

 

“I was remembering another dinner we had together, in a place much like this one, and considering how much things have changed.” It wasn't totally honest, but it did touch on how she was feeling. She wondered if he knew what she was referring to.

 

“Ah,” he remarked. “My girlfriend from Ann Arbor.”

 

“My choices were that, or your daughter,” she replied. “If I remember correctly, I refused to be either. I was incredibly frustrated with you that evening.”

 

“And tonight?” His eyes were fixed on hers.

 

She smiled again, remembering how she'd found him maddeningly hard to read that night, but how she'd tried to startle him with her perceptiveness. She had been so irritated, but at the same time she'd felt compelled to impress him. She couldn't quite believe how things had changed. “Well, it's still early Red, but I'd say so far I'm enjoying myself. I might have to move to Ann Arbor after all.”

 

He had to put down his water glass for fear of dropping it. Was she trying to hint at something? Her eyes seemed to be full of meaning.

 

They were interrupted briefly by the waiter, with whom Red seemed to be familiar. They spoke in low tones about wine choices, and the waiter ducked away. Lizzie was unfolding her napkin.

 

“What delicious thing would you recommend, Red?”

 

He fell to the task of analyzing the menu, which they both enjoyed in their own ways, and they at last chose their meals. When the waiter poured their wine, Red held out a glass and Lizzie tapped her own gently to his. “The future,” she said softly, and he had a difficult time swallowing his first mouthful.

 


	7. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - part 2 of Red and Lizzie's dinner. I couldn't resist a dance ;)

It may have been the wine, or the dress, but Lizzie felt suddenly more confident, as she regarded Red from across the table. He appeared to be having a hard time keeping his expression from leaning towards the adoration which she was almost certain he felt. If she could only be certain, she'd feel so much more at ease. So much more on solid ground.

 

At the moment, he was giving her a look of such appreciation: eyes narrowed, softening at the corners, mouth pressed firmly closed. He looked almost as though he couldn't believe he was sitting across from her, which prompted her to ask boldly, “Red, why did you ask me out to dinner tonight?”

 

He smiled, as if to himself. The question hardly made sense to him because he couldn't imagine a situation in which he would _not_ want to ask her to dinner.

 

“Are you having a good time, Lizzie?” he answered her question with one of his own.

 

She pursed her lips – that was hardly fair. But she'd play along, if there was a chance of drawing him out into confessing how he felt. “Yes. I'm having a wonderful time, actually.”

 

“There you are, then.” he replied, head tilting to the side. As if that answered everything. She considered his question for a moment. Did he mean he'd asked her to dinner because he wanted her to enjoy herself?

 

“That's not fair, Red. You didn't really answer my question.” she wanted him to say it.

 

“Didn't I?” he leaned closer. “I thought I had.” Lizzie felt herself flush a bit at his closeness, and then he drew back, smiling brightly. “Ah! It looks like our dinner has arrived.” And it had.

 

-

 

Lizzie was enjoying her meal, and Red's company. He seemed in especially good spirits, and she was determined to provoke some kind of admission from him, if only to break the electric tension she could feel between them. It had been growing for some time, perhaps since the very beginning. But she was just now starting to become tuned to its changes, to acknowledge its presence.

 

The waiter cleared their plates and she realized they'd finished eating without her even noticing. She'd been fully absorbed in their conversation. She wondered if she'd ever been in anyone else's company where time passed so quickly, so easily. She was nearly certain she had not.

 

They were sitting drinking cappuccinos. Lizzie noticed that the restaurant had cleared out somewhat, and they'd set some of the tables aside to make space for a small dance floor. There was a four-piece string ensemble playing a slow waltz.

 

“Red.” she said, softly. His eyes met hers. “Would you like to dance?”

 

-

 

Red regarded her closely. She looked as if she actually believed there was a chance he'd say no. He quickly replied, “I'd be delighted,” making sure she knew – she had to know – that there was no other response possible. He'd danced with her before, but that was different – they were different. Tonight, neither of them was in character. He stood, watching as Lizzie placed a hand on the arm of her chair. To keep her balance? Was she tipsy? He hoped that wasn't why she'd asked him to dance. But no, she was wriggling a shoe back into place that must have loosened while she'd been seated. He found the gesture endearing, offered her his hand.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He merely tilted his head. Led her to the floor. Her dress was spectacular, like the night sky. It reminded him of vast expanses of stars, of potential. Of their potential. Red placed one hand lightly on her waist, and held her hand with the other. She let one hand trail up to rest on his shoulder. It felt like coming home, holding her this way. He let his eyes close.

 

“Were you going to ask me to dance, if I hadn't suggested it?” she asked.

 

“Nothing would have stopped me.”

 

She smiled. “You're very good at this when you put your mind to it, you know.”

 

“Good at what, Lizzie?” his voice wavered slightly.

 

“Charming someone -- me, I suppose.”

 

“Is that what I'm doing?”

 

She leaned closer, until her head was at his chest. “Well if you're not then I'm a terrible profiler,” she said lightly.

 

He laughed. “Impossible, Lizzie.” He noticed she had left her head leaning into him, and was unable to refrain from placing a gentle kiss in her hair. _Impossible._


	8. Nightcap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this scene is turning out longer than I expected! Thanks for sticking around with me :)

Lizzie felt him pull her gently closer. Her head was resting on his chest, and she closed her eyes, wanting to remain in the moment. The music had changed from a waltz to something even slower, more languid. She was acutely aware of Red's hand on the small of her back. It felt like a tether, like he was holding her upright. Like if he let go she would melt to the floor at once.

 

“Red,” she began, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“What is it Lizzie?”

 

_I've been waiting for this. For you._ She couldn't get the words out.

 

He smoothed a stray strand of hair along her jawline, behind her ear. Fingertips lingering a moment longer than necessary.

 

Lizzie pulled away slightly so that she could meet his gaze. He had the look of someone who couldn't believe his good fortune. She felt her cheeks grow warm. Why wouldn't he say something?

 

“Why don't you say something?” she winced, the wrong words coming out before she'd had time to consider them.

 

The very corner of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. “What would you like me to say?”

 

_You're beautiful. I've been waiting for this, too. For so long._

 

She lifted a shoulder helplessly. “I don't know. I don't know.”

 

“Lizzie, I --”

 

They were interrupted by a sudden sharp clanging sound. A fire alarm? It was. Diners and waiters and the string quartet were all standing, moving quickly towards the doors. There was a hum of activity from the kitchen where some smoke had started to appear.

 

Red's first thought was protecting Lizzie. Lizzie's first thought was: are you kidding me? She grabbed her purse from the table, Red's hands on her shoulders guiding her outside. “Your hat,” she said as they passed the coat check, and he reached in and grabbed it on his way by. They passed someone on their cell phone calling the fire department.

 

Outside, Lizzie gave a shiver from the sudden drop in temperature. Red placed a protective arm around her. “You're cold. We should get you home.”

 

“I think I'm more startled than anything, actually,” she admitted as they walked towards the car. “What a strange way to end the night.”

 

Red laughed. “It was certainly not what I had in mind.” Lizzie gave him a quick glance to see if she could catch some subliminal meaning. His expression gave nothing away. They walked briskly back to the car, where Red held the door open for Lizzie once again, waiting until she had settled in before shutting it gently.

 

When they arrived back at Lizzie's apartment, he took her arm and walked her to the door.

 

“Well, thank you for tonight. The dinner, and … the dance and everything. Red, would you like to come up for a nightcap?” it all came out in a rush again and Lizzie wondered what was wrong with her lately. She was rubbing her purse nervously again. _Espresso machine,_ she reminded herself, _He bought an espresso machine on my recommendation. We eat breakfast together all the time. He brought me soup. Why does this feel so different?_

 

Red noticed her nerves and tried not to smile. He was having a hard time not taking her into his arms right there on her doorstep. _A nightcap?_ He would like that very much.

 

“I would love that, Lizzie.” and she believed him.

 

“I'm going to change out of this dress if you don't mind,” she said when they got into the apartment. “You could... lose the jacket?” she had an eyebrow raised, enjoying his reaction. “I'm sorry I don't keep any men's casual wear around for emergencies.”

 

“I'd be worried if you did, Lizzie,” he called out to her from the living room, and was delighted to her her laugh. He decided losing the jacket was a good idea, and also removed his tie before taking a seat on the couch.

 

When Lizzie walked into the room, he felt his breath catch. She was smiling at him, beaming really. “The jacket _and_ the tie – I'm flattered!” When he didn't immediately reply, she elaborated. “I'm used to the perfectly-dressed-at-all-times-Red. I like slightly-disheveled-Red even better, I think.” She sat down beside him, very close, as if it were nothing. As if it weren't the most wonderful thing in the world, to have her sitting beside him – her in a sweater that fell off one shoulder in a distracting way, him in his shirt and no tie.

 

She sat beside him for a moment, just smiling. “Oh! The nightcaps, I forgot.” Her eyes sought his. “What would you like – I think I have whiskey and maybe some bourbon.”

 

“Bourbon would be fine.”

 

She poured two glasses and brought them back. When she sat down again, she was still as close as before. He wondered how to ask what she had meant earlier, about liking him _disheveled_. About _liking_ him.

 

“Lizzie-” “Red-”

 

They both paused. Smiled. “Go ahead Lizzie,” he offered.

 

“Before the fire alarm went off. What were you about to say?” she was hoping he remembered.

 

He remembered. _Why don't you say something._ He had been so close.

 

“And don't say 'what did you _want_ me to say'? either. You can't answer every question with another question.” Her face was stern. This meant something to her.

 

“Lizzie...” he was at a loss. How could this be put into words? How could he let her know what he was feeling, had been feeling for so long? She watched him expectantly, but when he didn't say anything more, her gaze softened and she placed a hand gently on his knee.

 

“Why don't you just tell me, Red.”

 


	9. Counting on it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek :) I couldn't resist.

Red was overcome by a combination of things – the gentleness of her hand, the earnest expression in her eyes, her voice which suggested she truly did want to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He met her eyes with his own, allowing his gaze to reveal how he felt, how he had always felt about her.

“Oh, Lizzie,” he said, voice breaking a bit. “It would take years.”

 

Lizzie smiled. “We have time.”

 

Red looked at her with a mixture of wistfulness and adoration, as though he couldn't quite believe she was real. He gave his head the slightest of shakes. His mouth opened, then closed again. She thought she saw signs of tears in the corners of his eyes. “You are... _everything_ to me, Lizzie.”

 

He wanted her to know this, to understand how important it was to him that she know. He had told her once before that she was his Polaris- his north star. His way home.

 

Lizzie remembered this, that he had called her his north star. And she knew that he might finally be able to accept that she felt the same way.

 

Very softly, she allowed her lips to find his jawline, the corner of his mouth. Red remained very still, eyes closed. She moved to place a kiss on his cheekbone. He made a soft sound, like the breath was escaping his lungs of its own volition.

 

“You are everything to me, Red.” she echoed, pulling away momentarily. “I've just been waiting for you to realize it, you ridiculous man.”

 

He could almost convince himself it was true. And then she kissed him. Leaned in and kissed him fully. On the mouth. Deliciously, and for quite some time. His Lizzie. _His Lizzie._ “Lizzie,” he breathed, and responded in kind, kissing her back with fervor, arms encircling her shoulders, pulling her closer. Elizabeth Keen was in his arms, kissing him. It was every dream come to life, but more vivid, more intense than he could ever have imagined.

 

Her hands sought out the back of his head, his chest. She felt like she needed to lay claim to him. Then, “Slow down Lizzie,” he urged, half smiling. She pulled back momentarily, a bit dazed. “We have time.”

 

Her puzzled expression turned into a smile as he brushed his lips slowly, tantalizingly, across hers, eliciting a sensation of such wonderful anticipation in her. His mouth moved to her collarbone, and she shivered with delight. “Ah, Lizzie,” he said in low gravelly tones, “there are so many things--” and here he trailed off, finding himself preoccupied by the part of her shoulder that was exposed by her sweater falling away. Every inch of her was to be adored, he thought. What could he possibly have done to ever deserve this?

 

Lizzie seemed to be able to read his thoughts, because she murmured as he nibbled her shoulder, “Raymond Reddington, don't you dare start to tell yourself you don't deserve me. Not when you're in the middle of--” she gave a quick gasp, and let her mouth find his again in a very satisfying, tender kiss. She put her all into that kiss, needing to show him his feelings were far from one-sided.

 

“I hope you're planning to spend the night,” she said, some time later, feeling quite breathless.

 

Red gave her a glace of barely concealed desire. “I'm counting on it, Lizzie.”

 


	10. At long last

Red had pictured this moment many times, taking Lizzie to bed, but he had never quite imagined it would be this wonderful. After all his years of worrying, when it came down to it, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And even in his dreams, Lizzie had never gazed at him with quite so much wanting. The look she gave him, leading him into her bedroom, left him almost completely undone. He had assumed that if this ever happened it would be because she had finally accepted him, finally decided to give it a try. But in the end she seemed to want it just as much as he did, with equal intensity.

 

He followed her into the bedroom, amazed. Incredible that this could be happening. Astonishing that she-- “Let me, Lizzie,” he said, as she began to shrug out of her sweater. She flushed slightly at his low voice, full of need, but stopped mid-movement and let him ease the sweater over her head, taking his time and allowing his hands to linger as they moved up the sides of her body. When he'd pulled it completely off, he saw that she still wore that same look of desire, now mixed with a slight bit of self-consciousness that she was standing before him in her bra (which was thankfully lacy and not the least bit functional, she thought with relief).

 

He took a breath. Shook his head slightly and rolled his tongue in his cheek. Lizzie smiled, then. She saw that she had nothing to be self-conscious about. “What is it?” she said.

 

“Lizzie, you are magnificent.”

 

“Well thank you. You're not so bad yourself, Red. At least, from what I can tell with your shirt and pants still on.” she teased gently. “I could help you with that.” A glint in her eye, a challenge. How could he do anything other than accept?

 

He nodded, just once, slowly. Her hands found the buttons of his dress shirt, undid them with deliberate slowness. Loosened the bottom (her hands by the waistband of his pants almost drove him over the edge) and tugged it out from his pants. Pulled off one sleeve, then the other. The shirt fell to the floor. Before her hands made their way to his shoulders, he took a slight step back. “Before you do that Lizzie, I--” he sounded suddenly pained, and she wondered what had happened all of a sudden to change the mood.

 

He turned around, his back facing her. “I didn't want you to be shocked. Or... frightened.” He spoke towards the doorway. Lizzie saw that his entire back was covered in what appeared to be burn scars. She swallowed, hard. _Burns_. So they must have been from--

 

“The fire,” she said softly. “You were burned in the fire? That night?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you must have... saved me?”

 

“...Yes.” He was terrified that he had ruined his only chance at happiness. Lizzie would be repulsed by him, would have to pretend that she wasn't, but surely would not want to continue--

 

“Red, turn around. Please.”

 

He did, slowly. And she came to him, took his face in her hands. “Thank you. For always saving me.” She kissed him fervently, as much for her own need as to show him how grateful she was, would always be. When she pulled away at last, she was smiling again, his Lizzie, and ordering him to take off his pants.

 

Amazed, he obliged. She did the same, leaving her pants on the floor beside her sweater. “Raymond Reddington, allow me to attempt to save you, in return,” she said, eyes bright with desire and love.

 

And he did. And it was wonderful.

 

-

 

Lizzie lay in her bed, wrapped in Red's arms. Sometimes she wondered what life had been like before him. She could barely remember. She hardly wanted to. No single person had ever looked at her like that; had ever valued her so highly that she came before all else. It made her feel comforted; it made her feel revered.

 

“Red,” she murmured, quietly in case he was asleep.

 

“Lizzie.”

 

“I love you.”

 

She felt him shift, so that his body held hers alongside his from head to toe. His arms tightened around her. “I know Lizzie. I love you, too.”

 

At long last, she had been able to tell him, show him, that she felt the same. And at long last, he believed her.

 

-The End-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this was a good place to end this story. I'm so glad you've enjoyed it alongside me and I look forward to writing more! Lizzington fluff is always needed, especially during the holidays :) Thank you for all your kind comments along the way!


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